


Ryan's News

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten [155]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), True Blood RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 16:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14116113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.





	Ryan's News

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Sam Worthington/Ryan Kwanten storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).

Ryan can hardly wait for Sam to come home. He's been bouncing around their rented flat, too excited to focus and do much of anything. He wasn't even able to settle down enough to cook dinner, and so he ended up going out and grabbing a couple pizzas, loaded with pepperoni and hot sausage. He hopes Sam won't mind.

Whistling softly as he comes through the door, Sam drops his bag in the foyer and heads for the kitchen, already sniffing the air. "Do I smell pizza?"

"Yes." Ryan nearly tackles Sam in the middle of the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his lover and kissing him again and again. "Are you hungry?" It's like asking a fish if it's wet.

"Starving," Sam answers, nibbling at Ryan's neck. "Wait? Did you mean food?" he teases.

"I did, but... Guess what!" Ryan exclaims, laying his hands on Sam's shoulders and backing up just enough so he can see his lover's face. "I have the most amazing news! Aidan Scott wants to hire me to write for his new album!" Nope, he can't even draw out the suspense: he's too damn excited.

"Really?" Sam breaks into an all-out grin and hugs the hell out of Ryan. "That's brilliant!"

"Yeah!" Ryan hugs his lover back, so thrilled to be able to share this with Sam. It's like it wasn't real until this moment, when Sam got to be a part of his happiness. "His producer, Mitchell, rang me today and said the two of them are planning this, like, three-week writing retreat in Ireland - you know, just to get all the composing for the album done in one shot before they head into the studio - and they want me to come along and be a writing partner!" He eases back so he can see Sam's face, smiling like a little kid who's been handed the keys to the toy store.

Shit. Three weeks? In Ireland? Sam's sure his shock shows no matter how quickly he tries to hide it. "That's fantastic," he says, a little less enthused this time, but making every fucking effort to be. This is _huge_ for Ryan. "Really brilliant," he nods.

"Yeah! And I've never even been to Ireland," Ryan says, obliviously babbling on, so excited to tell Sam everything. He lays out plates and napkins as he talks, steering Sam to a seat at the kitchen table before he pulls the pizzas out of the oven where he's been keeping them warm. He puts a large melting slice on Sam's plate before turning away to the refrigerator and grabbing two cold beers. "I mean, they want to get some place remote, out in the countryside, you know, so they can focus on the creative process." He shrugs dismissively and hands Sam his beer. "Artists. But whatever, I'm just psyched to see new places."

"Yeah. That's great. I guess it'll be a huge boost for your career," Sam says, watching Ryan. He's so fucking excited.

"Yeah, finally," Ryan mutters wryly. He moans with pleasure at his first delicious bite of pizza. "You know how long it's been since I've sold something?" he asks, his tone much more serious now. "Nineteen motherfucking months." It's been a secret source of shame for him.

Christ. Sam blows out a breath and takes a sip of his beer. "You've been spending too much time taking care of me," he says, mostly teasing, but there's a good bit of truth to it too.

"I like taking care of you," Ryan says, his brow furrowing, trying to take Sam's words in a playful spirit, but hearing the truth underneath. "You can't blame yourself because I haven't written anything saleable. And taking care of you is my favorite pastime."

"I know," Sam says, reaching across to cover Ryan's hand with his, rub his fingers over Ryan's ring. "But this is an amazing opportunity for you. You've already written for this guy and it sounds like the perfect setting. You can just focus on your writing."

"...Yeah. Yeah, you're right," Ryan agrees, nodding. He squeezes his lover's fingers and gives him a smile, then turns his attention to his meal. But his thoughts are churning wildly.

"When do they want you there?" Sam asks, taking his hand back and finally picking up his pizza.

"Um. Next month. They want to be in the studio by mid-March - the funding just came through - so they've only got a cushion of a few weeks." Ryan snags a big slice of pepperoni off one of the pizzas, then licks his fingers.

Sam nods. He's not really hungry now but he keeps eating anyway, knowing he has to refuel his system after a long hard day of shooting. "Any chance I'll be able to come see you?" he asks. "Or is it one of those things where you're totally locked away?"

"I... I got the impression it was a real retreat kind of thing. No girlfriends, no families..." Not to mention that it wouldn't be very discreet for Sam to come visit Ryan in a small house he's sharing with two potential industry gossips. Ryan frowns. Now that he's coming down off his high about receiving the offer, he's starting to focus on the practicalities of the situation. And he's finding that he really doesn't like said practicalities.

"Yeah. I guess it wouldn't really work, would it?" Sam shakes his head at himself, folding a second slice of pizza in half and taking a huge bite. "We can call and text though. Skype."

"Right." Ryan's frown deepens. Skype? Skype sex? "I'm still thinking about it," he says quietly. "Haven't decided whether I'll go." Three weeks away from Sam? Last time, he didn't make it three full days away from his lover.

"What do you mean?" Sam says, taken aback. "I came in and you were fucking bouncing off the walls. You have to go."

"No I don't," Ryan says quickly, feeling a little contrary. "I mean, I was bouncing off the walls just because I was so excited that someone actually offered me work. You know, it's an honour to be nominated, and all that? But maybe I can work out some sort of arrangement with them, that doesn't entail me actually going to Ireland." He shrugs, and grins. "We can Skype."

"And if you can't?" Sam asks.

Ryan blanches. Then he shrugs. "I don't know," he says softly. "I said I have to think about it."

Raking a nail down the side of his beer bottle, the label curling beneath, Sam nods. "How long do you have?"

"A few days." Ryan has lost all interest in his food, and he pushes his plate away. "Vermont sucked," he says abruptly, trusting that Sam will understand it's not the non sequitur it seems to be.

"I know," Sam says, and the last thing he wants is a repeat of that. Hell, the last thing he wants is for Ryan to go anywhere that's not by his side, but fuck. "But this isn't the same. You'd be going with a goal in mind, with a job to complete, doing something you love. I think it's totally different."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Ryan says, sounding childish to his own ears. He gets up and takes Sam's hands, coaxing his lover up and into the living room. Flopping down on the couch, he pulls Sam down to cuddle with him.

Blowing out a breath - Christ, they're both so fucking stubborn sometimes - Sam wraps his arms Ryan and hugs him close, kissing the side of his throat.

The kisses go a ways towards relaxing Ryan again, dispelling some of the tension from his body. He wraps himself around Sam and opens up to him, even as he wonders whether he could really do without this for three whole weeks -- or whether he'd just go mad.

Hand sliding up under Ryan's t-shirt, Sam grips a nipple ring and tugs as he lets his teeth scrape against Ryan's skin. It bothers the fuck out of him that Ryan's shut down the conversation when it's all he can think about now, when he wants them to talk about this - Christ, _him_ talk - and work it out between them. But he doesn't want to risk a blow-out and something about the way Ryan said he didn't want to talk about it makes Sam think that's exactly what he'd be doing if he doesn't respect his lover's wishes.

Oblivious to Sam's turmoil, Ryan arches beneath him, seeking more, a harsher touch. Last time, Sam said it was okay to go; this time, Sam is outright telling him to go... Ryan tries to shove the whole issue out of his mind, raking his nails up his lover's back.

Breathing harder, his baser needs taking over, Sam pulls back. "Get your clothes off," he orders. "And turn over. I want you on your hands and knees."

"Yes, Sir," Ryan mutters, slipping to his feet and making quick work of his clothing. He never bothers anymore with either shoes or underwear in the house, so it doesn't take long before he's naked. Bracing carefully against the sofa cushions, Ryan spreads his knees as wide apart as the width of the couch will allow. And he angles his hips back, putting his slick bare hole on show.

Working his jeans open, Sam frees his cock, lining up and pushing in with one rough thrust. Filling his boy to the hilt.

Ryan shouts, feeling like he's being ripped in two. His back bows and he bears down, trying to adjust faster, make it easier. Momentarily dizzy with the sudden pain.

"That's it, boy. Come on. You know how to take it," Sam says, spreading Ryan's hole with his fingers and shoving in even harder, hissing in a rough breath at how fucking good it feels.

"Ohgodsir," Ryan slurs. "Oh god." So much of their relationship is an equal partnership, and Ryan loves it that way. But in moments like this, there's no doubt that Sam fucking _owns_ Ryan.

Gripping Ryan's hips, fingers keeping him open, Sam slams in harder and faster, watching his cock stab into his boy's hole again and again. Focused on nothing but fucking Ryan so hard his whole body aches with it.

Digging his fingers into the sofa cushion, Ryan works on simply taking it. A hole for his sir to use, however brutally he wants to. "Yes," he gasps, fire streaking up his spine. "Fuck yes. Please."

"Such a fucking slut for this," Sam growls, changing his angle so he can shove in even harder, straight in, going even deeper than before, balls snug tight to Ryan's hole with every thrust.

Ryan yelps, his shoulders hunching. He tries to clamp down to make it better for Sam, but it's all he can do just to hang on. "Please," he begs. "Oh fuck, Sir, please!"

"Please what?" Sam growls again, shoving a hand into Ryan's hair and pulling his head back, more leverage for his thrusts. "Use your words, boy."

Whining, Ryan rocks on his hands and knees. His entire body feels hot, like at any moment he could spontaneously combust. "Please, Sir! Please come inside your boy! Please fucking mark me!"

Those words. The desperation behind them. It never fails. Sam goes over, pumping in roughly, his cock spurting, hot and hard and heavy, filling Ryan, marking him again and again. " _Mine_. My boy. My fucking hole," gritted through clenched teeth as he unloads every last fucking drop.

Ryan damn near wails. He feels the searing rush inside him and he bears down, clenching rhythmically around Sam's cock. "Fuck, so good, so good," he mutters, his mind half-hazed. His own cock is an angry red, swollen full. "Please," he gasps, his focus turning. "Fuck, Sir, please let me come!"

"No," Sam says, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

Even though Ryan was genuinely requesting permission, he's still shocked to hear it denied. "No?" he echoes softly, trying to wrap his mind around the concept. Of course Sam has every right as his sir to refuse, and he doesn't need a reason. But still... "Am I being punished?" Is Sam that pissed off at him for arguing about the Ireland thing?

"No." Sam pulls out, sitting back on his heels. "I just don't feel like letting you come tonight."

After a moment to process that, Ryan nods. Feeling shaky all the way down to his marrow, he eases back to sit down. He's making a mess of the couch, he knows, and he'll have to scrub it clean tomorrow, but there are more important things in the world. Like reaching for his lover, and hoping Sam will take him into his arms.

"Hey. Come here," Sam says, hugging Ryan tight in against him. "I guess I should probably say no a little more often," he teases, voice soft. "Get you more used to hearing it."

"Hmm. I'll have to weigh the risks versus the benefits on that one," Ryan murmurs, grinning crookedly. He wants to go right into Sam's lap, but he knows that if he does then he'll only start rubbing against Sam and just make everything worse. So he settles for tangling his fingers gently in his lover's hair and breathing kisses along Sam's jaw. "I love you."

"I love you too," Sam whispers, tightening his grip on Ryan. "So fucking much. And I know you don't want to talk about it but I promise this is the last thing I'll say on the matter. I don't want to hold you back. I don't want you ever regretting you didn't get to do something and resenting me for it. I don't want you to go to Ireland, any more than I wanted you to go to Vermont, but if it's important to you, if it's something you need, something that's important to your career, your happiness, whatever, we'll make it work. You're not going to lose me, I'm not gonna fuck around while you're gone. If you're worrying or hesitating because of any of that, don't."

Ryan stares at his lover, stunned by his words... hell, stunned that there were _so many_ words. "I'm not... I wasn't worried about that," he says softly, reaching out to caress Sam's cheek. "I just don't know if I'll really be okay with leaving you. Me, not okay. Not you."

Sam nods. "Okay." As long as it's really Ryan's choice, Ryan's decision, and he's not the one fucking it up. He brushes his lips over his lover's, pressing their foreheads together. "Want to call it a night? Go cuddle in bed? I might actually change my mind about letting you come." He grins. "Maybe."

"Promises, promises," Ryan murmurs, smiling again. At this point he doesn't care too much about the orgasm; he just wants to feel like he and Sam are on an even keel again. He wriggles out from beneath Sam and stands up, then holds out his hand for his lover.

Taking Ryan's hand, Sam pushes to his feet and then presses close again, kissing Ryan softly. "I wish I didn't have to work tomorrow."

"It's okay. You can take advantage of me all you want once you come home," Ryan says with a laugh. "I'll be waiting." Which is kind of the issue at hand, isn't it? Whether or not Ryan will always be waiting when Sam comes home. He shoves the thought from his mind and lies back on the bed. "Any special requests for dinner tomorrow?"

Shedding his clothes and joining Ryan between the sheets, Sam pulls him in close, thinking. "Any chance you can do a roast? Maybe some mash?"

"Absolutely." Ryan strokes a hand down Sam's back, comforted by his lover's consistency. He should've known better than to even ask.

"Something chocolate for dessert?" Sam grins.

Grinning back, Ryan nods. "Yes, Sir," he promises.

"Good. I'll let you come then," Sam says, tweaking one ringed-nipple. "After dinner."


End file.
